


Good Morning Sunshine

by Volant



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cuties, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Lazy Mornings, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2452952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volant/pseuds/Volant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You could say that Jaime and Brienne are morning people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Morning Sunshine

It’s not the sun that wakes Brienne. It streams through the open windows, throws golden light across the room, warms the night-cooled air…but it is not the sun that wakes Brienne. It is a pair of lips, pressed ever so gently to the skin beneath her earlobe. Arms tightening around her waist, a hand splaying fingers over her bare torso, a leg nudged between hers.

She whispers a name—his name—and shifts so he can hold her closer. He laughs, and she sighs as his breath caresses her cheek.

“My wench,” he growls, and she feels his teeth brush against her bare shoulder.

“It’s early,” she says. His hand slides upwards.

“Yes,” he breathes. “Everyone else is asleep. We’re awake. And I’m _bored_.”

“Jaime,” She rolls to face him, but before she has a chance to say much else, he presses his lips to hers.

“Your eyes are so blue,” he says, drawing away for breath. “Gods, I love your eyes.”

“You’re still drunk.”

“So’re you…”

“No,” Brienne says gently, prying his hand away from her breasts. “I was the designated driver. Go back to sleep.”

Jaime moans and rolls away. “You’re no fun.”

“That’s not what you said last night.”

“I said a lot of things last night.”

“Yeah, you did.”

Jaime flings his maimed arm over his eyes and moans. In the early morning light, he almost looks like a god, despite his unkempt hair and untrimmed beard. Brienne’s eyes follow the rise and fall of his bare chest, and the laugh that had been perched on the tip of her tongue transforms into a groan of resignation.

“I hate you,” she murmurs, rolling over and pressing her lips to one of the scars on his wrist. “Why,” her fingers dip beneath the covers and tug at the waistband of his boxers, “do you look so damn _good_ —“ he lifts his arm and looks up at her with smiling eyes, “all the time?” She shakes her head and then brings her lips down on his, sucking gently on his lower lip for a moment when she pulls away. He lifts his head when she does, following her movement so that their cheeks remain pressed together, and closes his good hand around her waist.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he growls, and pulls her down into his embrace again.


End file.
